Chapter 45: The Shadowlands

Frodo woke in a grey void and prayed it was the death he had come to desire. Even in his maddened state, he had felt the loss of the Ring, of a part of himself and he didn’t want to live that way, less than whole. He could still see the Light that had accompanied him on his journey, but he did not try to reach it out of shame. Still it did not leave him, merely waited until he would welcome it once more. That comforted him in a way he did not entirely understand, but instead of accepting that embrace, he curled in around himself, trying to shield himself from being cut from the shards of his broken heart and soul that circled around him. He could not though. They tore at him until he was bleeding from each cut. The Light still awaited him, shining a little brighter and he longed then to let it heal him, but still did not approach it. All he wanted to do was let himself go, let go of all the pain that would be his existence now, all the terrible violation and longing for the Ring that still remained. He could still hear its voice so clearly.

He had hoped to see his parents would be there to greet him when he passed. How he longed to see them again, to be nothing but their Fro-fro as they used to call him when all was light and love and there was no darkness anywhere in their lives. How he used to giggle in delight to be called that. It was far better than any of the other names he had now. Ring-bearer. Assailant. Betrayer. Murderer. But he was alone in the void. Even his parents were too ashamed to be near him. That loss hurt him as greatly as losing the Ring. He would have howled out his grief had he been able to speak, would have sobbed had there been any moisture left for tears.

Your parents aren’t here because you aren’t dead, my dear hobbit.

He startled at the unexpected, familiar voice that sounded in his head. Gandalf?

Frodo felt a loving smile in his mind. Yes, I am here.

Was he dead or was this another hallucination, brought on by the severe dehydration that had tormented him at the end? He couldn’t be dead or at least he hoped he wasn’t for it was no better than his tortured living existence had become. He still ached in every possible joint and muscle. He was still so very thirsty and hungry. His torn feet and back and legs and neck burned. The place where his finger had been hurt the worst. He still heard the voice of the Ring. Had it followed him even here? He knew he would feel nothing around his neck, but he tried anyway. A weathered hand reached around his stopping him, another hand cupped his cheek. His fingers feebly grasped the one and he leaned into the other. He was so tired.

How much longer do I have to wait?

For what, dear boy?

To die.

Gandalf’s heart nearly broke to hear the torment, but even more the hopeful expectation in his beloved friend’s voice. It had already broken seeing the hobbit a mere shell of his former self. But that’s what the Ring does, doesn’t it? he thought. It hollows its bearers out until there is nothing left.

Why do you want to die? he asked.

I did it again, Gandalf, I claimed the Ring. I murdered Smeagol and I nearly killed Sam. I set out to sacrifice my life and again it wasn’t accepted. I failed.

Your sacrifice was accepted, Frodo. And gratefully so by the One whose faithful servant you have been, even if you do not fully realize Who you have been serving.

Frodo turned his face away from the comforting touch of Gandalf’s hand. I have been no one’s servant but the Ring’s.

Whose call was it then that you answered at the Council last time and inside your own home this time? It was not the Ring.

I have been then a poor servant of anyone else.

You have been the best you could be and that is far better than you think yourself to be. You offered yourself in the most perfect way you could - with humility and love and acceptance of the burden. You knew how much it could damage you and you still said ‘yes’. Twice. Don’t blame yourself for not being without failings. No one is but the One Who created you, in Whose image you were made. You are a being of light, Frodo. This present darkness did not overwhelm that light. You and Sam were both chosen from all time to be Bearers of Light , the only ones who could accomplish what was needed, chosen by the One Who knows and loves you both far better than you can possibly imagine, Who is well pleased with you. He knew, as you did, that the burden would be too much for you at the end, but you both accomplished what He made you two to do. He finds no fault with either of you.

He wouldn’t with Sam. Sam did nothing wrong.

Frodo heard Gandalf’s gentle exasperation and felt the love and compassion of his friend wash over and through his battered soul and broken heart, soothing it, calming it. He felt his cheek gently drawn back to be held. He felt the wizard’s smiles as a thing alive. It felt so wonderful. Almost as though he could feel clean again, but he feared nothing could do that.

Stubborn hobbit, did you not hear what I just said? He finds no fault in either of you.

Then why am I still alive? I want to die, I deserve to die, to...to...

Make up for all your mistakes?

There was a long pause. Yes.

Iluvatar asked for your life, Frodo, not your death. You gave that to Him. Don’t now take back that gift.

Where am I then, if I’m not dead?

You are in the shadowlands between life and death. You were nearly lost to us before the eagles brought you back. Aragorn has done as much as he can to heal you, but it is now your path to choose. But be aware it is not only your life. Sam will not part from you. If you choose death, he will follow you.

I don’t want to be parted from him, either. I want him to live.

Just as he wants you to live. So do your cousins, so does Aragorn, so do I, so does everyone. So does your Creator. He would like you to know joy again in your life for you were made for joy.

But what can life offer me now but pain?

You’ve already known great pain, Frodo, and you have lived to know joy again. Believe it can happen again. For it will, if you will let it. No one’s life is without pain, but you will be surrounded by all those who love you dearly.  That will help relieve the pain you will have.

Frodo now became aware again of Light and Love surrounding him, more than merely Gandalf’s. Two lights actually. One, his beloved Sam, the half of his heart and soul that had not been corrupted, his light in dark places. The other...

That is light of Iluvatar you are seeing, that has accompanied you all your life, though you did not know it. Sam’s light and love are merely the reflections of the One, just as you are to him and your cousins and to all of Middle-earth. That is what you are, Frodo Baggins, not Ring-bearer, but Bearer of Light because you fulfilled your purpose.

But I didn’t fulfill it. I couldn’t destroy the Ring. I would have preferred to have died with it instead of letting it go.

But to be Ring-destroyer was not your destiny. That was set aside for Smeagol. What you were made to do, you accomplished perfectly despite all the obstacles you had to overcome, accomplished it perfectly twice. The One Who you accepted that task from made sure of that, just as He made sure Smeagol accomplished his task. Who do you think kept you safe this whole time when you should have surely died?

Frodo turned to the Light he had indeed felt throughout his life, though he had never known its source. Where were You? Why weren’t You with me at the fire?

The Light reached out to even further, enveloping him. His heart and soul heard words that the mouth could not speak or the ear understand, but words that soothed him nonetheless.

Now do you know, dear boy? Gandalf’s voice came again. Eru does not abandon His own. How do you think you and Sam and Faramir survived the destruction? How do you think the eagles knew where to find you?

Faramir survived? I am glad.

He is waiting for you to wake even now.

Frodo’s attention was drawn to voices. Someone was stroking his curls. He recognized that soft touch. “Come back to us, Frodo, love,” Merry said.

“Please,” came Pippin’s small, frightened voice. “Please.”

“Come back to the Light,” Gandalf said.

The light. Yes. Frodo did so much want to come back to that, after so long in the darkness. He had been consumed by it, but Sam had stood by him even then. Frodo knew he always would. Even now he could feel Sam’s loving presence. Even more than that, he felt surrounded by the Light that had guarded and guided him the whole way and he knew if how allowed it, he could follow that Light back to life. But for now, he presented the broken pieces of his heart and soul and allowed himself at last sink into that bright, loving embrace.